


'Little' Dean's Ass – and It Should Know

by sdwbf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Pairing, M/M, Sex with Sentient Animals, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwbf/pseuds/sdwbf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean gets lost in the woods and ends up with a 'My Little Pony.' And that's 'with' in the Biblical sense. Written for <a href="http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/7359.html?thread=7723199#t7723199">this prompt</a> on the Blindfold_spn meme. And no, I have no shame. Why do you ask?</p><p>Posted to Live Journal Jan 30, 2012. As an added note, I have never had as much fun writing any story more than this one and I really love writing so my great thanks to the OP for her cracktastic prompt!</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Little' Dean's Ass – and It Should Know

  
**'Little' Dean's Ass – and It Should Know** by sdwbf

Dean Winchester came to and knew it was going to be one of those freaking days. First, see 'came to.' As in not waking up from a refreshing night's sleep. Oh, no, none of that for this hunter. Couldn't do things the easy way with a room, a bed and infomercials droning him to sleep, nope, not him. Instead he went out into a freaking forest in the middle of the night (okay, it had been an hour before sunset, but it got to be the middle of the night freaking quick) on the trail of a vague 'something is out there' … thing. (Hey, he said it was vague, all right?)

In retrospect it had been a pretty freaking stupid thing to do, but that whole phrase? Yeah, becoming his theme song. What? He was tired, okay? No living relatives, no real friends, and nothing but years and years and years and … etc. of hunting one vague thing after another ahead of him. Been sort of fun in a way before he'd lost Dad. Had even dropped out of high school to go on more hunts with him. Mistake. Nothing like not even a high school diploma in hand to make a non-hunting future kind of high on the suckage scale. So at the ripe old age of twenty, Dean was feeling like an old man before he could even legally drink. Made him kind of reckless.

Besides, the citizens of Ponyville (what? _He_ didn't name the stupid town!) hadn't played fair! They'd sicked their kids on him. All big eyes and quivering lips as they sniffed about the big, bad 'thing' (see, he totally gets a free pass on calling it that) had stolen their ponies. His first mistake was asking 'what ponies?'

Yeah, the place was called Ponyville and it was surrounded on three sides by Equestria Forest (again, _not_ his fault!), but he hadn't seen a single horse. He'd figured it was one of those places named after stuff long-gone, but every last one of the kids – even the freaking teenaged-boys – held up a hunk of plastic. Horse-shaped (kinda) plastic made from girly colors, manes and tails they could all brush and 'cutie marks' on their rumps. Dean had given the boys a 'Dudes!' look about the dolls (he didn't care if they were horses instead of girl-shaped, they were still dolls.)

He may have said something along those lines and was informed they were 'babies' by the girls and 'badassed sacred trusts' by the boys. What the freak ever. In any case, he'd sort of offended everyone and made himself feel like a giant tool, because who was he to judge a town full of people who played with dolls (one each because the … thing had stolen all the twins)? Which led to him dragging his depressed, reckless ass into the stupid woods.

Unfortunately, he'd gotten that ass lost which pissed him the hell off. First, he never got lost! No, never! And that time in Wal-Mart when he was two didn't count because hey, two! Second, the freaking woods weren't that freaking big! Except somehow they were and that put him in a 'got a bad feeling about this' mood (Dean considered it a good thing to quote Han Solo as often as possible – but only from the first two movies because the third had pretty much sucked.) So he felt totally justified shooting the damned thing when it had leapt out the shadows like some bad special effect from the latest cheesy SyFy channel movie.

Dean let it have it with both barrels. Salt didn't make it even blink. He tried his Colt. Emptied the clip, but no dice. Holy water made it wet. In desperation, he went for an exorcism. Stupid since it didn't look demony (It is too a word! Or should be!) but he had nothing. To his surprise it worked. Or he assumed the light show and the roaring sound meant that. He was really too busy getting blasted into unconsciousness by the backlash.

So that brought him back to coming around in the middle of the freaking woods. Still lost, stiff from however long he'd been out on the really hard ground, and pretty much the only good news was that it wasn't night anymore (well, that and the bad … thing was totally gone.) So maybe he could find a way out of here. He sat up and his skin sparkled. What the …? He looked closer and no, not his skin. Glitter. He was freaking covered with freaking glitter. Purple and pink glitter.

He tried to shake it off and got a face full of the stuff, and huh. Fruity. Smelled like some mixed fruit blend. The tropical kind with coconut and pineapple and other … stuff. This begged a question – what the fuck? Yeah, yeah, but he was covered in fruity glitter and all lost and grumpy so pardon him if his language deteriorated. Because in his experience big nasty black … things did not burst into fruity glitter. Then again he was usually able to drop the 'thing' and go for a more accurate label by the time he got to the destroying its ass part. Whatever.

He decided to figure this shit out later and concentrate on getting the hell out of here and into a shower. Hey, he was a bacon cheeseburger kind of guy! He didn't do fruit unless it was inside a pie. His stomach growled reminding him dinner had been rushed and a long time ago. Awesome. Damn, this day sucked.

Using his big, bad hunter skills, Dean oriented himself from the sun's position and headed due east because he was pretty certain he'd mostly been walking west last night. In any case, it would get him out of the stupid woods because they'd been less than a mile wide, so straight line equaled 'out of here' one way or another.

He hadn't gone far when he got the itch on the back of his neck that said he was being followed. Well, he supposed it could be the glitter, but no, it was mostly the 'you are not alone' crawlies. Crap. Pretty much used all the ammo last night. Okay, all of it. But he still had his trusty knife (as in it didn't need bullets so he could always trust it to save his ass.) He gripped the knife handle, then pulled it as he spun around. Nothing. Maybe it was the glitter? Or the fruity smell. Stupid fruit. This was why he preferred cheeseburgers.

Not being a total moron, he kept the knife out, but started walking again. Three more times he whirled around to find himself still totally alone. Damned embarrassing, but at least it kind of distracted him from the fact he'd walked at least two instead of the required one mile without anything even hinting the woods might end. At almost four miles he stopped and shouted, "Oh, come on!" Nothing. Great, tired, hungry and shouting at trees. This one was so not going in the journal.

Left with little choice, he started walking again while he contemplated the merits of throwing a fit. Probably wouldn't help get him out of here, but it might make him feel better. Before he could decide the freaking trees seemed to be thinning. Finally! He picked up his pace and quickly emerged … in a freaking clearing. That fit would have been a total possibility except he'd finally caught up with what must have been stalking him.

Large, but nothing like the thing from last night. This definitely wasn't black or shapeless although he couldn't really see that as the good news because his eyes seriously felt under attack. The damned thing was purple and pink. And no, he didn't think the glitter having a similar color scheme was a coincidence. Anyway, the thing … Fine. The horse. The purple horse with a pink mane and tail complete with a mark on its rump just like the toys the kids were playing with back in the town he couldn't find because he was trapped here in the damned woods with a freaking purple horse! And … "Is that a chef's hat?" he asked, squinting at the 'cutie mark.'

The head bobbed. "Yes, cooking is my special talent."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted and kind of found himself halfway up the nearest tree. He decided that was a good idea and kept going until he was perched on a sturdy branch well out of hooves' reach.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Dean stared at it, then decided the hell with it and said, "Horses can't talk."

"No, they can't," agreed Purple-Pink. "But I'm not a horse. I'm a pony."

All right, Dean could kind of see that. At least it was closer to pony than horse size, but it had the lines of an adult horse versus the squatty legs and barrel chest, and damnit, he had brain cells clogged up with what a freaking pony looked like? "Whatever. You still can't talk."

"Obviously I can."

Dean snorted. "Obviously the stupid fruity smell has me tripping." Yeah, he liked that explanation. Because wendigos and shifters were one thing, but Dean had to draw the line at talking, purple-pink, pony-sized horses. Even a hunter had to have some standards, damnit!

"Oh, that's not fruit. That's my marking scent."

Marking? Several things about that word alarmed Dean, but he went with the most immediate eewww. "You freaking peed fruity glitter on me?"

If a horse-pony could smirk, this one did. "It's not urine."

"Fuck."

"Exactly. Come down here so we can get started."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you were all unconscious and everything, and I'm a gentleman. So I didn't penetrate you."

Definitely on a fruity acid trip. And this conversation was so over. He crossed his arms and glared out at the freaking woods willing them to knock it off and turn back into a crappy hotel room.

"Um, aren't you coming down, pretty?"

Pretty? The stupid glittery, purple horse with pink highlights was calling him pretty? He opened his mouth to say something epically scathing, but at the last minute remembered he wasn't going to encourage his hallucination by talking to it. He snapped his jaw shut with a click. Asleep in bed. Had to be. Not up a tree covered with fruity, glittery pony spunk while the pony in question kept trying to coax him out of his faithful tree.

Not happening. Dean was staying right where he was until the world made sense again. "Pretty," the horse-pony whined, "I have to mount you to make our marriage official."

Dean considered saying something along the lines of there not being a ring on his finger, then he remembered what was on him, and yeah, the not talking thing worked for him. And fruit be damned, he must have really slipped up and eaten something like a salad. Nothing good came from leafy greens. Yeah, he was probably still in Muncie, Indiana, asleep with some stupid kids' carton droning on in the background pumping his head full of weird green-fueled shit. Everything else, including freaking Ponyville (because who would hate themselves enough to name their town that?) was a lettuce-induced nightmare.

"Come on, pretty, come down to your Sam."

'Sam?' The horse-pony's name was Sam? Not 'Purple-Fuity-Prince-Pinky-Prances-A-Lot?' Dean decided this was something of a relief and opted to reward the hallucination. "Dean."

"What?"

"My name is Dean." Hey, at least the stupid … Sam would stop calling him 'pretty.'

"I like that. My pretty Dean."

Fuck. Teach him to break radio silence.

"You have such pretty eyes, Dean. And your pretty lips look very lickable." The stupid … Sam was cooing at him. Damnit, Sam's didn't coo! "But I can't wait to push inside your pretty, pretty ass."

Dean leveled a glare at Sam that had made wendigos consider backing off, but all it did was let the stupid … Sam fix him with puppy … pony eyes. Big soulful, sad pony eyes. Like the ones the kids had used to get him into this mess. Except instead of making him stomp off into freaky woods, the dark purple ones leveled on him now made his cock harden and his hole feel all itchy and … slick. Fine. He was having one sick-pervy dream so why wouldn't he have a self-lubing ass? Never. Eating. Lettuce. Again.

Sam inhaled. "Mmmm, you smell so sexy."

Yeah, he bet. Slutty hole with a mind of its own and glitter spunk had to be the stuff of pony wet dreams. Crap. Now he was wondering what turned his pervy hallucination on. Awesome.

"Deeeaaan, come down, let me make you mine."

Um, no.

Sam got a thoughtful look on his big purple face. "Okay, I'll just leave you to think about … stuff."

Dean snorted as Sam trotted away. Yeah, right. He'd seen this movie. Minute he set foot out of this tree, Sam would pounce. Not happening.

Sam seemed to get this because he returned after a few minutes, but he didn't come empty-hooved. A bouquet of wild flowers was clutched in his teeth. He laid them at the base of Dean's tree. Right, flowers. Now there was a way to win Dean's heart. Not.

Dean gave him an unimpressed look then went back to ignoring him. Maybe it was time to see some sort of shrink? When his mind went places like this … yeah, professional help was definitely needed. Except … wouldn't he have to talk about all this shit? Fuck.

Sam huffed, and Dean almost grinned. Served the stupid, presumptuous … Sam right.

His grin faded into a frown as his stomach growled. Couldn't remember that ever happening in a dream before, although he had seen the sort of crafty look stealing onto Sam's face in a nightmare or two. Just, never on a horse. Pony. Sam.

He heard the murmur of soft words, Sam's tail swished and his eyes blinked, then a plate appeared next to Dean. One full of cheesburgery goodness. He snatched it up and dug in. What? He was _hungry!_ Besides, dream food couldn't hurt him. Not like it was lettuce or anything, after all.

Dean moaned loudly and his hole twitched in mild orgasm at the taste. Best. Burger. Ever. Another bite and he couldn't help it. "So good."

"Of course! I used only the very best plants and magic for my pretty Dean."

"Plants?"

Sam gave him a 'duh' look. "Ponies don't eat meat." Stupid purple bitch shuddered.

And that's when Dean got it. No way, not even in his worst nightmare, would his mind allow him to defile the wonder that was the cheeseburger with thoughts of a tofu-veggie burger. Shit. "This is real."

"Of course it is."

"And when I come down there you're going to fuck me with your big horse-dick." His hole twitched again. Stupid thing.

"Pony-dick, but yes."

"You can magic me down, can't you?"

Sam didn't bother to answer. Instead one moment Dean was sitting on his branch, the next he was sitting next to the flowers. He could totally climb back up, but his hands were full of a cheesewhatever way too tasty to abandon.

He looked up into dark purple eyes. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"I'm a gentleman."

Dean's eyes dropped giving him a view between Sam's forelegs so he could see the huge glitter-dripping dick all hard and ready for him to give in. But damnit, "You jizzed all over me! How is that … gentlemanly behavior?"

"I had to claim you, silly. Everyone wanted the vanquisher of Nightmare Moon."

Ah, a label for the thing. Fit. Speaking of which, he glanced at the really, really big cock again. "That's not going to fit in me."

Sam nudged him with his snout. Was all purple and velvety. "Yes, it will. Now, finish eating so I can fuck you."

"'kay," he sighed and went back to munching on his burger. While he ate, he considered the logistics of things and, "You'll need something to get my ass high enough."

Hadn't even finished saying the last word when with a gentle rumple the ground at the center of the clearing shifted and created a perfect grassy platform – high enough for Sam to mount him with a support for Dean to drape himself over. Even had lower platforms on each side for Sam's forelegs. Dean came at the sight of it. From his ass. Soaked through his jeans.

He finished chewing the last bite, then stood up. With Sam watching intently, he slowly stripped off his clothes, sighing in relief as his sodden jeans pulled away from his skin. Dean walked across the clearing, then settled himself on and over the platform. Perfect fit – held his ass high, and his legs far apart so his cock dangled unobstructed. He liked that. Going to come from Sam's cock alone.

Sam galloped over with flattering speed and his big body enveloped Dean's, his cockhead pushing against Dean's entrance.

He whimpered at the size of it, but Sam pushed forward. Thing was huge and long. Took Sam forever to bottom out and Dean felt stuffed full, but nothing tore or hurt. And every breath Sam took made his prostate zing. He moaned loudly and suddenly the clearing was full of all manner of ponies and woodland creatures watching their fucking. "Sam?" he panted.

"Marriage," Sam answered in what sounded a lot like a whinny.

Right. The purple-pink pony was literally taking his ass in marriage. Dean decided not to think about it, closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasure shuddering through his body. Sam pounded into him, making him moan as he writhed on the huge dick. Loved this. Loved Sam, and he didn't care if that made no sense, because damned could the stupid pony fuck.

He came over and over, his hole twitching and spasming all around Sam's dick, but Sam kept fucking, making it last until Dean came so hard he saw stars. Purple and pink ones. Made him pass out for a few minutes. Part of him sort of thought he would wake up back in his Muncie hotel room. Instead, he came around in time for Sam to start round two.

So that's how ex-hunter Dean Winchester spent the rest of his life with an ass constantly leaking fruity, glittery pony seed. Potent stuff, too. Found that out as his belly began to swell until eleven months later he gave birth to a litter of pony dolls. Turned out the damned things were eggs. But that's another story.

end


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